


Every New Leaf

by brynnmck



Category: Firefly, Serenity (2005)
Genre: Ensemble Cast, F/M, Post-Serenity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-19
Updated: 2006-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-14 17:25:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brynnmck/pseuds/brynnmck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>In the weeks after the signal, they drifted.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every New Leaf

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for _Serenity_.
> 
> This was written for [](http://driftingatdusk.livejournal.com/profile)[**driftingatdusk**](http://driftingatdusk.livejournal.com/) , for the [](http://truthsome-fic.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://truthsome-fic.livejournal.com/)**truthsome_fic** ficathon. Her request was Sihnon, hope, and angst. 
> 
> Thanks very much to [](http://carmen-sandiego.livejournal.com/profile)[**carmen_sandiego**](http://carmen-sandiego.livejournal.com/) for her patience with me and for getting the ficathon going in the first place, as well as to anyone who's had to listen to me blather about this over the past few weeks ([](http://voleuse.livejournal.com/profile)[ **voleuse**](http://voleuse.livejournal.com/) , I'm looking at you). And finally, super-mega-cheesy-fried thanks to [](http://sdwolfpup.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://sdwolfpup.livejournal.com/)**sdwolfpup** for the beta, as well as for her support, insightful discussion, and having the patience to not smack me upside the head at any point during this process. :)

_Tonight inside the orchard south of town_  
 _The petals are still falling and the moon_  
 _Is tangled in the branches_  
 _The lilac wind where no one goes_  
 _Is rolling every new leaf over_  
 _Every new leaf over_  
 _Every new leaf over into ruin_

 

In the weeks after the signal, they drifted. They took no jobs; many of their contacts were either dead or lying low, and thanks to the Operative and his men, they were well-supplied with food, with none of _Serenity_ ’s vital parts broken or threatening to fall off or explode. Despite the cost, Inara smiled to see how nonplussed Mal and Kaylee were, with nothing to fix. It was just as well, because Kaylee tended to be rather preoccupied when she was in the engine room of late, and it was rare to catch Simon without smudges of grease on his clothes and a grin on his face. River smiled more, too, wandering the ship like a freed prisoner under the sky.

They needed the joy, jagged and exhausted as they all were. Rebuilding the ship had felt right, ritual and cathartic, but after, with the black rolling endlessly by, _Serenity_ ’s empty spaces loomed larger than ever. Even Jayne lifted weights with an expression of angry confusion that went right to Inara’s heart. She told Sheydra and her students to continue without her, sent for enough of her things to make the shuttle hers again, and tried not to feel useless. Because Mal and Zoe were drifting, drifting like their ship, and she wasn’t sure any of them could do anything to help.

Zoe’s grief was silent but palpable; Inara ached with it. As the loss soaked in, the Captain and his first mate spent hours on the bridge, barely speaking. Inara was half-surprised that _Serenity_ could stay in the air, with the weight of everything they didn’t say, and she could see the shadow of Mal’s guilt darkening his victory, more every day. She wanted desperately to help—they all did, even Jayne, in his clumsy sledgehammer way—but Mal and Zoe were unreachable in those moments, as sure as if they’d bolted a steel door between themselves and the rest of the crew. It wasn’t constant, but it was enough, and it kept the wound fresh for all of them.

So when Mal came haggard and lost to the door of her shuttle one night after a long vigil with Zoe, Inara told herself that it was for all of them that she stepped forward instead of back, that she wrapped her arms around him and let him breathe his fury and frustration into the skin where her neck met her shoulder. She told herself it was for all of them that she let those breaths become kisses, hot and reckless and open-mouthed while his hands crushed the fine silk of her robe. But when his mouth finally found hers, everything fell away, and she couldn’t stop, couldn’t lie to either of them anymore. She led him to the bed, undressed them both with trembling hands while he murmured grief and need into her hair, his fingers desperate on her skin. And when she welcomed him inside her, she knew it was for her, for the long months of sorrow and separation, for the long moments with the Reavers at the door and death all around her. She forgot her art, forgot her fear, just watched his eyes and the sweat at his temples, felt his body slick against hers, clutched him close and fierce as they fell together.

 

*****

 

“Inara?” came Kaylee’s voice, and Inara started out of sleep, shifting Mal’s arm where it sprawled across her shoulder. She could feel her cheeks start to flame, but when she risked a quick glance at him, he was still dead to the world, hair tousled and mouth open. She couldn’t help smiling, even as the flush spread from her cheeks throughout her body.

“’Nara? You there?”

She cleared her throat quietly, slid out of bed and into a robe as smoothly as she could. “I’m here, Kaylee,” she answered, her mouth close to the comm.

“You’re comin’ through kinda quiet,” Kaylee mused, her voice seeming impossibly loud in the small shuttle. “Do you want me to come check—”

“I just—” she cleared her throat again, prayed to whatever powers might govern the sound sleep of Firefly captains, “I didn’t sleep well. Can I help with something?”

“You got a wave,” Kaylee explained. “Want me to patch it through?”

“No!” Inara wasn’t sure which was worse—the decidedly undignified squeak, or the excessive volume of it. “No,” she repeated, feeling twelve years old and unsure again. “Tell whoever it is I’ll return the call as soon as possible. Who is it?” she added, out of curiosity.

“Lady named Althia, from Sihnon.”

“Oh,” Inara replied softly, her blush turning to chill in an instant, something like dread settling in the pit of her stomach.

“You know her?” Kaylee asked. “She looks a little like you, all fine and graceful and Companion-y.”

It was enough to make her smile a little. “Yes, I know her. Thank you for telling me; please tell her I’m indisposed at the moment, but I’ll wave her in thirty minutes, if that’s acceptable to her.”

“Ooooh, _fancy_ ,” Kaylee giggled, “I’ll do my best,” and then, with a click, the comm went silent.

“Friend of yours?” Mal asked behind her, his voice rough with sleep, and Inara congratulated herself that she only jumped a little. Summoning all of her Companion training, she turned to face him.

“In a manner of speaking,” she said as she turned. “She’s—” Companion training or no, she lost her train of thought for a second, struck by the sight of him, naked and awkward on her fine sheets. “She’s the High Priestess of the Companion’s Guild,” she continued, too quickly, blushing again and hating it.

“Ah.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Any reason you can think of why she’d be contacting you?”

He rearranged the sheets around him, deliberately casual, and she bit back a near-hysterical giggle. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I haven’t spoken to her since… since I left.”

“Huh.” Silence hung between them for a moment, and Inara studied the small statue of Buddha at her bedside with admirable devotion. “Well.”

“Well.” She forced herself to meet his eyes. He was watching her, his expression a mixture of heat and hunger and uncertainty; the urge to crawl back under the covers with him slammed into her with unexpected force, and she rooted her feet to the ground, suddenly terrified.

She saw his face change, saw the realization dawn and the slow, deliberate calm. “Well,” he said again. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thank you,” she answered softly, feeling relieved and disappointed and furious all at once. He rolled out of bed and retrieved his scattered clothes in silence, and the sight of the angry red scar on his back mesmerized her until he shrugged on his shirt and left her shuttle without a word.

*****

 

When Inara came to join them at dinner, Mal told himself firmly that the sight of her did not twist his gut in such a fashion that he wished he hadn’t just taken a bite of whatever protein surprise Kaylee had cooked up for them that evening. Nor had he been avoiding her since the morning; a Firefly, even one so fine as his, didn’t run herself, and he’d had more than a few things that had needed seeing to. Of course, a few of those things hadn’t needed seeing to until he’d broken them, but he was captain of this gorram ship and he’d break and fix her as it suited him.

A memory flashed into his brain, _Serenity_ drawn and quartered on Mr. Universe’s doorstep, and he winced involuntarily, forced himself to chew and swallow the protein that had gone to ash in his mouth. To clear the image, he looked around at his crew, tried to catch the flow of the conversation.

It was hardly the respite he was looking for. “I hear you got a wave from a friend of yours at the Temple,” Simon was saying to Inara, and the boy had gotten bolder in his months with them, both the breach in protocol in asking after a lady’s private messages and his hand on Kaylee’s thigh underneath the table. Mal wasn’t sure whether to be proud or violent, so he just took a long drink of his water and kept listening.

“Yes,” Inara answered, and even without looking at her he could hear the subtle teasing in her voice, “how did you hear about that?”

“Well, when the wave came in, I was… uh…” Simon hesitated, grinning like the lovesick fool that he was, and Mal’s mood tipped toward violent for reasons he had no particular desire to investigate.

Jayne upheld his record for making a bad thing worse by putting in, “Aw, please. Like anyone don’t know what Kaylee’s usin' to lube the engine these days,” and that had Mal’s muscles tensing for a welcome confrontation, but without looking up from her plate, River flicked a not-quite-cooked bean in the mercenary’s direction, nailing him directly between the eyes. Jayne growled, and Mal tensed again, but the big man just plucked the bean from where it had landed on the table and popped it in his mouth, apparently deciding the extra food was a better bargain than baiting the psychic assassin girl.

 _Can’t blame him for that_ , Mal mused, but just as he’d begun to find some equilibrium, Inara’s smooth voice swamped him.

“Captain,” she said, like her throat was too small for the word. He grunted in response, his eyes firmly focused on his plate; she must have taken that as an invitation to continue. “I’m going…” She hesitated, then, almost stumbling over it, “I’m going to have to return to Sihnon.”

Straight shot, just like always, and he wished he could’ve had _that_ nerve cluster moved along with the other one. “Heart of Alliance territory,” he muttered. “Pretty dangerous country for us these days.”

“I know,” Inara replied, sounding a bit steadier now. “I thought that maybe you could take me to one of the commerce planets, and I could—”

And suddenly all he could think was that she’d been naked and warm and sighing and with him, _with him_ just hours before, and reckless fury rushed through him. “So what is it that they need you for, anyway?” he interrupted her, sharp with innuendo, and she was all trained and flawless but he saw just the tiniest hint of a wince anyway, and it was vicious pleasure. “Some client needs your special talents?” he continued, putting all the sneer he had into it.

She blushed a little—a Companion, blushing—but she didn’t look away from him. He hated himself for how that got to him. “The ostensible reason is that one of my former students is being examined for a breach of protocol,” she answered, drawing her robe a little tighter around her. “But I suspect there may be more to it, which is why I have to go.”

“What—” Kaylee started, but Mal rode right over her.

“So you’re going to fly us into a trap… again,” he accused Inara coldly.

Hurt flashed into her eyes, burned there, and he hated both of them for that. “As I said at the time,” she said, stiff and deliberate, “I didn’t think you would be stupid enough to come. And, as I said just a moment ago, I don’t expect you to come this time, either, I just need to get to—”

“So now I—we’re just gonna abandon you to certain danger, is that it? That’s what you think of us?” He knew how he must sound, but he couldn’t stop; distantly, he was aware of everyone else at the table watching them in stunned silence.

“That’s—is that—I just—” she stammered, clearly frustrated, until finally she took a deep breath and said slowly, evenly, “I don’t know what you want from me, Mal.”

He gritted his teeth shut on the laugh that threatened in his throat. _Well, now. There’s a question._ Dropping his eyes to his plate again, he pushed the protein around with an aimless fork. “We’ll take you to Sihnon,” he told her, when he could trust his voice. “We got a few tricks the Alliance ain’t seen yet. But we fly in, drop you off, then we’re gone. No hangin’ about while you drink tea in ten ritual ways.”

“I understand. Thank you, Captain,” she said, her voice soft, then slid back her chair and walked carefully from the room.

 

*****

 

Inara had promised herself she wouldn’t look, that she’d keep her equilibrium as long as possible. But as soon as she felt the bump of atmosphere, she couldn’t help it; she swept through the curtains and peered eagerly out the windows of her shuttle. Everything was white for a moment, then the wispy clouds shredded in _Serenity_ ’s wake, and Sihnon appeared.

Her heart contracted as she took in the lush, green, rolling beauty of it, the tall and graceful Temple growing steadily in her vision as they descended. The central city was designed to be pleasing from all angles; she couldn’t help admiring it even as her breath hitched unevenly in her chest. She had loved this place once, loved it with everything she was and wanted to be.

Unexpectedly, she hoped it would welcome her back.

Despite her indulgence of her impulse, when Mal knocked on the door of her shuttle, she was ready. The days since they’d set off for Sihnon had been cold and quiet between them, another wound that showed no sign of healing. She wasn’t sure whether to be glad or sorry that she was getting used to it.

“The scrambler your friend sent had better keep the Alliance a healthy amount of disinterested in us,” was all he said as they descended the stairs into the open cargo bay. Zoe appeared from the direction of the bridge, flanking them.

“The Companion’s Guild is the power here, not the Alliance,” she answered calmly.

“Well.” His mouth twisted sardonically. “Ain’t that a comfort.”

She gritted her teeth for a second— _not so used to it after all_ —but then Althia was there, standing radiant and perfectly composed in front of them, and Inara forgot about Mal entirely.

“Inara,” said the High Priestess, smiling as she came forward. Inara took her outstretched hands, kissed her on both cheeks.

“Priestess. You honor us.”

Althia held out a hand to Mal, who took it, looking a little stunned despite himself. “Captain Reynolds. Thank you so much for coming; I apologize for putting your crew at risk.”

“No trouble so far, ma’am,” he replied, wary, but as close to polite as he ever seemed to get.

“I’m glad to hear it. We show no evidence that your visit was remarked upon.”

Mal opened his mouth, then closed it, then turned a little and indicated Zoe, standing just behind him. “My first mate, Zoe Washburne.”

Althia inclined her head gracefully. “Pleased to meet you.” Zoe nodded in return, her answering smile thin around the edges, and Inara saw Althia’s eyes narrow just the slightest bit before she focused on the rest of them again. It was enough to make her wonder, but Althia only said, “Let’s get in out of the sun, shall we?” and suddenly Inara was too busy trying to quell a brief lurch of nervousness to think about anything else.

 

*****

 

“So,” Mal said slowly into the silence that had descended on Althia’s sitting room, “what you’re tryin’ to say is… she’s bait.”

Inara glanced at him, and he’d never known a woman who could roll her eyes with just the flick of an eyelash. Althia just met his eyes squarely, calm and direct.

“In a word, Captain, yes.”

Mal hesitated, then, judging it the lesser of two evils, “You may have heard we got a girl on board, a reader,” he offered. “You think some of your folk might have turned to spying for the Alliance, she could flush ‘em out quick enough, and no harm to anyone who didn’t deserve it.”

Althia raised an eyebrow. “So that part’s true, too,” she murmured. “I’m intrigued by the suggestion, but the influence of the spies in question has been insidious. It’s all whispers and hints, that the Reavers are coming closer, that anyone not under Alliance protection is in grave danger. Fear is quite an effective weapon against Companions and ordinary citizens alike, and Miranda has been swept clean already; they have little to contradict them when they say that that the footage you broadcast is entirely false.”

“They’re sayin’… what? _False?_ ” Blindsided, Mal simply stared at her for a moment, everything in him gone numb except for a twisting heat in his chest. He heard a sharp noise from the corner of the room, looked up to see Zoe striding quickly out the door. His eyes found Inara’s before he could think; she looked sad and stricken, but not particularly surprised, and he felt more of a fool than he had since… well.

Althia bowed her head briefly, then, after a deep breath, focused on him again. “It’s not enough to have them silently identified and removed, Captain,” she said quietly. “They need to be exposed for who and what they are, and as publicly as possible.”

“Why do you care?” he asked, his voice scraping harsh over the rough edges in his throat.

“I’m the High Priestess of the Companions’ Guild,” she answered simply. “Part of my responsibility is to ensure that my charges are loyal first to Guild authority. Each Companion’s influence can be far-reaching; if their allegiance is compromised, we risk losing our hold here by inches. But also,” she added, an edge to her voice now, “I believe in the truth of what you discovered, and it sickens me. That such a regime should be allowed to flourish, no matter what good deeds may be mingled with the evil, is unacceptable.”

Mal clenched his jaw and searched her face for signs of deception; she seemed sincere enough, but then, he wasn’t in a particularly believing mood just then. He was, however, finding himself in a fighting mood, no matter who the opponent might be, and this seemed like as good a way as any to find one. “You got a plan?”

Althia nodded. “Each midsummer’s eve, the Guild hosts a ball.” She smiled a little. “It’s commonly considered to be the highlight of the season. In three nights’ time, all of the most prominent citizens of Sihnon will be at our disposal.” Her smile went just a touch feral, and Mal couldn’t deny he liked that. “It won’t get much more public than that, Captain.”

“Good.” He gave her a sharp-edged smile of his own. “We’ll stay. All of us.”

“What?” That from Inara, looking stunned now.

“You want a nice, big target, don’t you?” he asked Althia, and she nodded again. “Well, then I reckon a whole ship of troublemakers is more tempting than just one.”

“Mal—” Inara started, but Althia overrode her smoothly.

“I was hoping you might say that,” she said, approving. “We can make you and your crew quite comfortable here, and we should be able to guarantee your safety and supply you with everything you might need.”

Inara tried again. “It’s not—”

“Your decision, Inara,” he finished for her, and the conflict on her face only twisted him up worse. “After this thing is over, you do as you please. But you brought us here, and for now, you’re just gonna have to deal with the consequences.”

Fury and futility still burning in his stomach, he rose abruptly from his chair and went to find Zoe.

 

*****

 

When they had been training together, Inara had always appreciated Althia’s sense of humor. But she didn’t find it amusing in the slightest that the High Priestess had placed Mal in the room next to Inara’s own. Being alone at last in the Temple had soothed her at first, but every restless creak and step she heard through the shared wall shattered her hard-won calm. When he finally appeared in her doorway, it was almost a relief.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there, awkward and tense.

“Would you like to come in?” she asked, when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to speak first.

“You didn’t seem too surprised, back there,” he muttered low.

Her heart sank. “No,” she said as gently as she could.

“We had proof.” His eyes flickered to meet hers. Her stomach twisted at the shadows in them.

“Video can be altered, Mal. They didn’t… they didn’t see what we saw.”

He huffed a short, bitter laugh, and she could see his fingers tighten on the doorframe. He nodded slowly, looking down at the floor again. “Right.”

She couldn’t help it; she rose from her chair and went to him. “Mal…”

“Wash,” he whispered hoarsely. Tears pricked at her eyes. “And the Shepherd… hell, all of 'em…”

“Mal,” she repeated, closing her hand over the rigid tension of his forearm. “Althia knows the truth. She has influence here. It might take time, but we—”

“Time.” The word sounded torn out of him. “Tell that to—” But then he stopped himself, his jaw clenching resolutely; she could practically see him building the wall again around his rage and disappointment, brick by brick. When he looked at her again after a long moment, it was only an echo in his eyes.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered, aching.

He almost smiled. “Sleep well, Inara,” was all he said, and there was something softer in it than she’d heard since he’d stalked out of her shuttle days ago. He turned, started back toward his own room.

“You too,” she murmured, and she had to grip the doorframe, herself, to keep from following him.

 

*****

 

They had two days to prepare for the ball, which was more than enough, considering that all any of them really had to do was show up and be armed. Well, there was also the matter of acquiring appropriate clothing—a process which Kaylee had dived into with downright terrifying glee—but Mal didn’t bother too much about that; as long as he wasn’t expected to wear a sash or a veil or anything similarly ridiculous, he figured he could last a night in whatever Althia’s tailors dug out for him.

In any case, the idle time wasn’t sitting well with him. He’d ventured out a bit into the Temple on the first day, but after interrupting a few classes (including a dulcimer lesson, which had made him smile) and having a few too many giggles directed at him from behind manicured hands, he’d decided keeping close to his room was best. Inara was busy catching up with old friends, Simon and River seemed more comfortable there than any of the rest of them, Kaylee was probably picking up tips on matters that didn’t bear thinking about, and Zoe was quiet and reserved but seemed content enough, which was about the best he expected from her these days. He didn’t even want to know what horrifying things Jayne might be up to. There was no one to command and nothing to repair, and by the morning of the second day, he was reduced to sitting in his lavish room trying not to break anything. So when he caught sight of an unoccupied walkway overlooking the extensive grounds, he ducked out onto it more to save his sanity than anything else.

The fresh air was a nice change, he had to admit, though he felt a twinge of disloyalty thinking it. It was a fine, sunny day, a light breeze carrying some flowery scent on it that was noticeable without being overpowering. The calculation of it made him nervous—the entire damn place made him nervous, come to that—but before he could dwell too long on that thought, he was startled to see Zoe, walking along one of the paths below him with a Companion he didn’t recognize.

The Companion was young and smiling, her blonde hair shining in the sun and her arms moving in gestures more emphatic and enthusiastic than he was used to seeing from Althia’s charges. Zoe was stoic, listening, her hand trailing idly along the hedge next to them… and then suddenly a laugh bubbled out of her, ringing loud and rich across the courtyard.

Mal stopped breathing.

Zoe kept laughing for another few seconds, until, with no warning, she sank slowly to her knees, crushing the leaves of the hedge in her clenched fist. And then she was crying, gasping, ragged sobs that tore at his heart, and he was moving before he had time to think, looking desperately for a way down to her.

He hadn’t gone more than three steps when a hand closed around his arm. “Captain. Don’t.”

He rounded on her, furious, but Althia didn’t back down an inch, her eyes solemn and resolved. “This ain’t your concern,” he hissed. “I’ll go if I damn well—”

“Naimi knew Wash,” Althia said simply, and the name, unexpected, hit him like lead in his stomach. He couldn’t speak for a second. When he glanced back at Zoe, she was still huddled on the rock path; Naimi stood next to her, a hand on her shoulder.

He turned back to Althia. “You got about three seconds before I start hittin’ people.”

“From the time you arrived, I could see something was terribly wrong with her,” she explained, looking completely unruffled by his threats. “Inara told me of Zoe’s loss—a breach of confidentiality for which I hope you will forgive her—and, as we discussed it further, she mentioned that Zoe’s husband was from Hephaestos. I spoke with Naimi, and she thought it might help if Zoe could talk with someone who knew him.”

“We knew him,” Mal grated out.

“Of course. But you’re too close to it, too close to her.” Althia smiled a little, sadly. “Sometimes a stranger can offer comfort where even the dearest friends cannot.”

Mal hesitated, torn between suspicion and the awareness that he’d just heard Zoe laugh for the first time since Wash had done a shadow puppet show for the children of Haven. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her cry. “Why are you doing this?” he asked finally.

She tilted her head to the side, considering, then, “Inara tells me you don’t have a great deal of respect for our profession, Captain.”

“Inara appears to be tellin’ you a lot of things,” he snapped, irrationally annoyed.

Althia only shrugged. “This may be difficult for you to believe—particularly given what I know of your experiences with so-called ‘civilization’—but truly, Captain, it’s as simple as this: she was in pain. Naimi and I wanted to help. Fortunately for us, we found a way.”

He knew that a Companion could probably fake sincerity as well as anything else, but searching her face, he couldn’t find any hint of deception. “I…” he started, then, grudgingly, “Thank you. We can—”

“You’re welcome,” she answered, her smile wider this time, and gracious. “And if you mention payment, Captain, you’re only going to insult both of us.”

Mal blinked, startled, and lifted a shoulder. “Never stopped me before.”

Her mouth twisted wryly. “So I hear.” She paused, then, “She’s an immensely strong woman, isn’t she?”

“That she is,” Mal murmured, no longer exactly sure who they were talking about. He figured it applied either way.

“I’ll see you this evening, Captain,” Althia told him quietly, and she walked away, leaving him with the sounds of Zoe’s grief.

 

*****

 

The gown was finer than anything Inara had worn in a long time, and Althia’s tailors had worked nothing short of wonders to make it fit perfectly. Given that, Inara couldn’t for the life of her figure out why, as she sat in front of a tastefully large mirror while one of the trainees put the finishing touches on her hair, she had to practically sit on her hands to keep herself from fidgeting. As pleasant as the past two days had been—long walks to her favorite haunts with friends she hadn't seen in years, long meditations in the glorious Temple itself—she'd found herself increasingly anxious as the hours had passed, until she realized she was anticipating the ball with a degree of impatience that far exceeded her expectations.

Eventually, she couldn't bear it anymore. “Thank you, Calliope.” She placed her hands over the other girl's, removing them from her hair, employing her sweetest smile to cover her tension. “It looks lovely."

“Thank you, _mu qin_.” Calliope’s answering smile was bright and warm; Inara saw promise in it. The girl obviously hadn’t quite learned control yet, however, and after a moment of silent struggle, the words came pouring out of her: “Did you really travel with Captain Reynolds for years?” It was clear she'd been wanting to ask the question since she'd arrived in Inara's rooms.

Inara sighed. “There are times it feels like decades.”

“And you still stay with him, even after everything he’s done to undermine the Alliance?”

The girl looked shocked, and Inara stifled the instinctive surge of anger; she was still too close to their experiences to respond with equanimity. When she had mastered herself, she turned the question back to Calliope. “Are you so certain that the Alliance isn’t capable of we’ve accused them of doing?” She placed just the slightest amount of the stress on the word _we_ , hoping Calliope had been trained sufficiently to pick up on it.

She had; the girl’s shoulders stiffened a little. “The Alliance has brought the—”

“Light of civilization to many worlds,” Inara finished with her, allowing herself a wry smile. “Yes, I know. I supported Unification, in fact.”

“Then why—”

"How old are you, Calliope?" Inara interrupted her. The trainee blinked.

"Sixteen, _mu qin_."

"And have you ever been outside the Core?"

"No, _mu qin_." She looked chastened now; Inara reached for calm, but the words tumbled out anyway, harsher than she'd intended.

"Then perhaps you might reserve your judgment until you actually have firsthand experience of the things you're talking about."

Tense silence hung between them for a few seconds, while Calliope watched her with a combination of fear and mutiny. She'd pushed too far, and now the young girl wouldn't remember the meaning, just the emotion. She was just reaching out to apologize when the sound of Mal clearing his throat caught her attention.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said, standing in the doorway, looking tall and devastating in what was undoubtedly some of the Temple's finest cloth. Brown was the dominant color, and Inara smiled inwardly at Althia's boldness.

Before she responded to Mal, however, she took Calliope's hand. "Forgive me, _mèimei_ ," she said quietly, emphasizing their intimacy. "I lost friends recently, and I… am not myself. Will you be patient with me?" She looked up at the girl, letting all of her hope and contrition shine in her eyes.

Calliope hesitated, but after a moment, her lips curved, and the emotion was genuine. "Of course, _mu qin_ ," she answered. "Thank you for the honor of assisting you."

Inara rose, kissed her on the cheek. "The honor was mine. I'll wear your handiwork proudly." She turned in Mal's direction, her voluminous skirts swishing around her, and she caught just a glimpse of Calliope's blush and shining eyes before turning her focus completely to Mal.

"Althia thought we should make our grand entrance together," he explained as she approached, offering her his arm. His capacity to be gentlemanly, at least when the mood struck him, never ceased to amaze her.

"She always did have a flair for the dramatic," she sighed, placing her hand in the crook of his elbow. Things had been easier between them since that first evening of their arrival—at least as close to easy as they ever seemed to get—and she was glad of it; she'd had enough to take in as it was without having to bear the weight of his anger or apathy. In fact, tonight he seemed more relaxed, more _right_ than she'd seen him in quite some time.

“How do I look?” he asked as they moved down the corridor.

“Conspicuous,” she replied, unable to help smiling.

Mal shrugged. “Well, I thought we’d go with our strengths.”

She glanced at him, eyebrow raised. "That seems wise, given how your jobs tend to turn out even under the best of circumstances."

He rolled his eyes, but he kept sneaking glances at her as they walked, and there was a speculative look in his eye she wasn't sure she'd seen before. She tried to ignore it, but finally, "What?" she demanded, fighting a self-conscious urge to put a hand to her hair.

He shrugged again. "Couldn't help overhearing, back there," he offered casually. "I have to admit, all that sounded awful familiar."

"I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about," she sniffed, and she was _not_ blushing.

He timed it perfectly. "Sounded a hell of a lot like me," he went on cheerfully, and then they were inside the ballroom and she couldn't smack the smirk off his face.

 

*****

 

An hour or so later, Mal was reflecting that he found high society parties infinitely more enjoyable when he was more or less guaranteed a fight at the end of them. Somewhat to his disappointment, the Alliance spies hadn't revealed themselves immediately, moustaches twirling and ridiculously overdeveloped weapons at the ready; after he got over that, though, he was surprised to find the wait wasn't as horrific as he'd feared. In sharp contrast to the event he'd so memorably attended on Persephone, everyone he could see genuinely appeared to be having a good time, and his crew not the least of them.

Kaylee was wearing something even more elaborate than the pink monstrosity she so cherished; he had to admit she looked lovely. She and Simon made his teeth hurt a bit, but there were worse things. River looked wide-eyed and enchanted, slender but strong in a filmy dress, and he was glad to see her smiling. Jayne seemed to have attracted some followers, a trio of lovely Companions who seemed to be sincerely enjoying his company, though they were probably also keeping him out of trouble.

"Enjoying yourself, sir?" Zoe had somehow managed to sneak up behind him, and he figured that didn't bode particularly well for his ability to ferret out the Alliance… well, _ferrets_ , before they got their teeth into him. Then again, Zoe at his back meant maybe he didn't have to.

"I feel just like a little girl again," he drawled, turning a bit so as to better digest the rare sight of his first mate in a dress with enough slink in it to maim the average man. She looked tired, and there was something in her eyes that he was pretty sure was going to haunt him for the rest of his life, but the half-curve of her lips gave him more hope than he'd had in weeks. He hadn't thought much on the afterlife in the past several years, but right now, he hoped there was one, and that Wash was watching from it.

If nothing else, he'd have hated to miss the dress.

"Inara's friends certainly know how to throw a party," Zoe was observing, her eyes drifting over the sparkling crowd.

"That they do," Mal agreed. He spotted Inara in the mass with an ease that would have unsettled him, had he stopped to think about it. She was smiling, dancing with a male Companion who looked not unlike a statue come to life; Mal supposed it was too much to hope he'd have the satisfaction of shooting the man before the night was through.

"Don't look Alliance to me," Zoe commented with a straight face. "Though I suppose he could get caught in some crossfire, maybe—"

"Don't you have something you need to be doing?" he interrupted, torn between annoyance and genuine joy that Zoe was actually joking with him. "Like maybe making sure Jayne ain't gettin' us in the middle of any blood-feuds or anything?"

"Just outlining the territory, sir," she replied blithely.

"Well, go outline it somewhere else."

"Yes, sir."

She wasn't more than a few steps away, though, when he saw a flash of steel out of the corner of his eye, and seeing as he had to struggle for a few seconds with the concealed holster around his middle, he and Zoe ended up in perfect harmony.

The tall, striking woman in front of them froze, though he caught a glimpse of a knife disappearing into the folds of her full skirts. He had to give her credit; she didn't flinch, just stared at them haughtily, for all the world as if she didn't have two loaded weapons just inches from her lovely nose.

"Hey," Mal said. "Thanks for comin'."

 

*****

 

Just as Inara was sure she couldn’t possibly respond to one more polite inquiry after her health, she heard the welcome click of a well-used gun, followed by a collective gasp. She spun to see Mal and Zoe, shoulder to shoulder with their weapons trained on a woman she only vaguely recognized. With an admirable attempt at a bow to the ladies surrounding him, Jayne moved quickly to join them; despite the danger suddenly humming through the room, Inara couldn’t help but wonder just where he’d been hiding the enormous weapon he was brandishing.

“This is ridiculous,” declared the woman; _Sestari_ , Inara remembered suddenly, the daughter of a wine merchant from Bellerophon. She’d come to the Temple early, at the age of ten; remembering the child she’d been, Inara’s heart broke a little. “I’m not sure what I’m being—”

“Disloyalty to the Guild,” Inara said clearly, crossing the room to stand at Mal’s left. Simon and Kaylee beat her there by a few steps, looking determined and a little reckless. “Spying for the Alliance. Undermining Guild authority. And spreading reprehensible lies that endanger every living person on every planet in the ‘verse.”

Mal looked at her as she swept into place next to him, shot her the hint of a grin that warmed her down to her toes. “Well-put. Now,” he continued pleasantly, waving the gun ever so slightly in Sestari’s face, “if you’d be kind enough to name your accomplices, we can all get on with our evening.”

“I don’t have any—”

“That one,” River piped up from Zoe’s other side, pointing. “And those three. Him, too. _She_ doesn’t believe in Reavers,” she added disdainfully, indicating a dark-haired woman who was doing her best to fade into a corner. The accused stood blinking, all looking vaguely panicked while shocked whispers rustled through the room.

“You have no authority here,” the dark-haired woman scoffed, and Inara had to admire how she kept the desperation from her tone.

“But I do.” Althia’s voice rang out. She hadn’t moved from her position near the front of the room, and she held no weapon, but every eye in the room turned to her. “Hundreds of years of tradition and honor might have been undermined by your thoughtless actions. The Guild does not bow before any government’s authority. The moment we do that, we become the slaves they would make of us.”

Inara bit the inside of her cheek to keep back a grin. _Flair for the dramatic_ , she thought to herself, amused, but she could see it working in the faces of Sihnon’s citizens. Of course, the loyal Companions recognized it for what it was, but they didn’t need theatrics to be outraged; the act of betrayal was more than enough. Throughout the hall, muscles tensed beneath fine fabric, the energy of it crackling in the air.

Faced with a band of outlaws out of lurid rumor, dozens of inspired citizens, and fifty or so Companions well-trained in various types of combat, the traitors had no choice but to submit. And Althia knew it.

“Remove yourselves from this room,” she said quietly, fixing her gaze on each of the accused in turn, the words carrying easily through the silent tension of the hall. “I will deal with you each as I see fit. If you try to escape, your deaths will not be on my hands.”

Mal turned to Inara. “You do always know the best parties,” he told her, his smile wicked, and she couldn’t help smiling back as the culprits, displaying varying degrees of remorse and mutiny, filed slowly from the room.

 

*****

 

“Well,” Althia said, setting an elegant tea tray on the table in her sitting room, “I will say this for all of you: you certainly know how to make a scene.”

Mal grinned, momentarily pleased with the world. “Scene-makin’s somethin' of a specialty of ours. But you aren’t so bad in that department, yourself,” he added, toasting her with the tea she handed him.

“It does come in handy at times,” Althia admitted with a laugh. “In all seriousness, Captain, if there's any way—”

“If you mention payment, Priestess, you’re only gonna insult both of us,” he interrupted, and Althia smiled, a little shamefaced as she sank gracefully into the chair next to Inara’s.

“You humble me, Captain.”

Inara was observing the exchange, surprised and mildly confused. “How many times do I have to tell you, woman? I have many layers,” he explained to her loftily, earning himself the exact eye-roll he was looking for.

“ _Xièxie nî, mèimei_.” Althia placed a hand on top of Inara’s. “For coming here. For trusting me. I know this can’t have been easy for you.”

Inara smiled at her, and he was glad to see that she meant it. “Thank you. I’ve missed this place a great deal. It was time that I returned.” Then her expression shifted slightly, and for some reason his breath caught in his throat. “In fact,” she went on, her voice just the tiniest bit unsteady, “I think I had to come here to realize… this isn’t my home anymore.”

Althia nodded, pride and sadness written clearly on her face. “I know. I could see that from almost the moment you returned.”

“I couldn’t breathe here.” Inara’s hand tightened a little around the other woman’s. “And now, after all we’ve seen… I can’t live here in the middle of this luxury and grace and pretend that nothing exists outside the Core.” She paused, then, with a quick flick of a glance at Mal, “I would like your blessing to return to my students, Priestess. And I’d like to take some of your students with me. Seeing a different side of the world might be good for them, might even help prevent the very problem you asked me here to solve.”

Mal just blinked at first, stunned, all the satisfaction of the evening’s victory curdling into bile in his stomach. Then suddenly he remembered her, standing strong and fierce with the rest of his crew, remembered her reprimanding Calliope, kneeling next to Simon, giggling with Kaylee… and out of nowhere, it hit him.

Home was home; it didn’t much matter where a person lived.

“How many do you intend to take?” Althia asked, a little wary, bringing him back to the present.

“Only as many as would like to come,” Inara assured her swiftly. “Just consider it… an exchange program. An experiment. The students will be free to return to you at any time.”

Althia hesitated, but finally conceded, “You were always one of the brightest lights in our Guild, Inara. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you would need to find your own sky to shine in.” She sighed. “One year. Return here with your students in one year, and I'll evaluate their progress… and yours.”

Inara squeezed her hand gratefully. “Thank you, Priestess. We will seek to bring you honor.” Then she turned to him, apprehensive, bracing for the storm.

He only smiled. “Guess you’re gonna need transportation.”

*****

 

In the end, there were fourteen students who came with them, including a girl that Inara had seen at the Temple, working on a broken fountain with Kaylee; a boy who seemed content to talk mathematical theory with River for hours; and—somewhat surprisingly—Calliope. It put a mild strain on _Serenity_ ’s capacity, especially with her new charges slightly giddy with freedom and adventure, and Mal threatened more than once to dump them all in the cargo bay like the cattle, but the trip passed largely without incident. Too quickly, it seemed, they arrived at the Training House, and it was time for goodbyes.

The parting was painful, as it had been the last time, but at least there was comfort in the manner of her leaving, in the knowledge that she was running _to_ something rather than away from it. Small comfort, but enough to make it bearable, and finally, with Kaylee’s whispered “love you” still warm in her ears, she and Mal were left alone on the front landing of the Training House.

They stood there in silence for a time, watching the landscape, until he spoke.

“Inara.” His voice was low, intent; when she turned to look at him, his eyes were fathomless. “Stay.”

It caught her completely off-guard, and for a few seconds she feared an impossible choice… and then she remembered him sitting next to her as _Serenity_ drifted toward Miranda, remembered answering his question with a question, and realized what he meant. She smiled a little. Heart thudding in her chest, she told him deliberately, “You know I’ll never really leave.”

His lips curved in response. “So,” he said, moving closer, heat in his gaze now, and she shivered. “This is more of a… temporary arrangement?”

“I think that depends on your definition of ‘temporary,’” Inara replied, her smile widening. “You and the rest of the crew will always be welcome to take your ease here, and I’ll have to make sure you haven’t ruined my shuttle, and someday… maybe… Mal.” It tumbled out suddenly, urgent, desperate. “Be careful. _Please_. I can’t—”

“Hey,” he said, and kissed her, and she could taste the salt of her tears as his mouth moved over hers, feel his muscles move under her hands as he pulled her closer. She wanted to hold it all, to capture every sensation in her memory, but she couldn’t think; she could only pour everything she had into the kiss, a silent promise.

She forced herself to pull away before it became completely impossible for her to do so, but her traitor hands stayed tangled in his shirt, and his fingers lingered in her hair. “Well.” He rested his forehead against hers.

She laughed a little, cleared her throat. “Well. The crew’s waiting, I suppose.”

“So’s yours,” he answered, raising an eyebrow, and then, with a deep breath, he stepped back, took one last look at the Training House.

She blinked back tears. “I’m going to call it Haven.”

A host of emotions warred on his face at that, shock and grief and guilt and pleased surprise, but when he finally mastered himself, the grin he gave her was wide and proud. “Gonna be a real nice place,” he told her, and with a last, approving nod, he turned and started off down the hill. In the distance, _Serenity_ was waiting.

For a moment, she watched him go, watched _Serenity_ ’s thrusters glow warm and red at his approach. Then she smiled, squared her shoulders, and went to find her students.

 

_And so tonight I saw the orchard south of town_  
 _And it came to me that I'll be leaving soon_  
 _Oh and though it hurts me_  
 _Still I know that lilac wind_  
 _Is rolling every new leaf over_  
 _Every new leaf over_  
 _Every new leaf over into bloom_

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics (and title) taken from Jeffrey Foucault's gorgeous "Every New Leaf Over."


End file.
